What do you see?
by swimming.in.lead.543
Summary: History. Ties. Loyalty. A veteran of both Militaires Sans Frontieres and Diamond Dogs holds all of these. My father told me much of his time working with the Legend...I'm just an Army Ranger. I never would have expected to get dragged into FOXHOUND...much less the war that was about to ensue.


There are times in history where those who alter it the most are forgotten. Those whose actions alter the outcomes of wars...the fall and rise of nations. Of peoples. Of havens. History forgets these men and women. Those that have families to go back to, go home to one of two things; relief and loving faces, or disdain and disgust at the actions they took. There are always exceptions to this rule. Big Boss. The legendary leader of Outer Heaven. The original Boss. Who ventured into space, the mother of special forces. These are the people they told me about. These figures of almost supernatural powers. Yet...here, patrolling the deserts of Iraq, those legends are like the dunes. Slowly blowing away in the wind.

My name is Jace Rorschach. I am an Army Ranger, Sergeant, 22 years old. Special Forces. It is May 23rd, 2003. At this moment I'm located somewhere in the mountains of Iraq with my squad preparing to infiltrate a terrorist base. It was here that I encountered living legends...and caught the eye of them.

"Rorschach. You, Daniels, and Blazcowictz are the ground team. You three will be entering the base and will locate and eliminate the target, one Sha'irr Basani. Johnson and I will provide sniper support when possible but you three will be on your own otherwise. Word is FOXHOUND is in the area. However don't count on them to provide aid. They're not to be trifled with and we do not want anyone to go home in a pine box today. Is that clear?" Lieutenant Reid, good man. Good leader. Best shot in the squad...officially. Man couldn't hit the broadside of a barn unless he's standing still as a rock half a mile away. Johnson his spotter was another one not suited for close range engagements. It made sense that they would hang back to be useful. I kept silent but nodded as my three-man team broke away towards our infiltration zone. The wind was picking up, heavily.

"Sandstorm." Daniels muttered,

"Works both ways, we'll get close enough to bump toes before they'll see us...but we're blind." Blazcowictz replied. I stayed quiet but jerked my head to keep them moving, bringing my finger up in a 'shh' gesture. The sandstorm turned out to be more useful than not. Three dead sentries and a picked lock later we were in...things were going so well. Blazcowictz and I entered the building. Sniper fire tore Daniels in two. I lunged out and dragged my friend's upper half into the building. He was already dead. I took his dog tags and proceeded to rush to the stairs. Two dueling snipers could be heard. One shot, much further off, ended the duel. My radio went off.

"Sniper down...looks like we have a legend on our side today...Blazco stay with Mikey...Rorschach proceed to target. Make him pay." I moved down into the basement of the facility. Staying hidden and silently neutralizing the rushing guards to the shelter that lied within. Eventually foregoing stealth I began my offensive. My short-barreled M4 planting a single round into the heads of my enemies. It was not meant to last. Soon enough my mag went dry and I was forced to use my sidearm. Lunging forward into the guards' ranks I killed my way to the underground shelter. Firing round after round of 9mm parabellum into the _shemagh_ wearing extremists. They were armed with older weapons. Variants of the AK-47, although very rarely did they use them. Pistol and Revolver fire accounted for the majority of projectiles sent my way. I ducked, threw, swerved and tackled my way through the seemingly endless horde. Eventually I threw the final adversary through a wooden door. Planting a single shot in his forehead. Raising my gaze from the corpse I saw my target. Staring at me in fear, a decorative dagger held shaking in his hand. I flicked out the empty magazine of my sidearm, reloaded it. Then holstered it and did the same with my rifle. The man was paralyzed.

" _Alsamt Aldamawiu_." He said. Keeping the blade at me. I sighed softly.

"Say your last prayers now." I ordered. The target's eyes widened before shutting tightly and muttering under his breath. After he fell silent I placed a round in the back of his head. I activated my radio. "Reid this is Rorschach. Target eliminated." Silence. "Repeat, this is Rorschach. Mission complete. Lieutenant? Corporal? Reid, Johnson, Blazcowictz? Do you copy?"

"Jace Orion Rorschach. Age 22, Sergeant. Army Rangers. The surviving members of your squad have been exfiltrated."

"Identify." I stated, readying my weapon and traversing the blood-soaked tunnel, the British-accented voice seemed amused.

"I am Commander Liquid Snake. FOXHOUND. And this...well. Think of it as...a bit of a high-stakes promotion. There are three members of your potential new unit between you and your planned exfil point. Good luck." The line went dead as I approached the stairs that lead to the complex. Exiting the basement there were the songs of ravens in the room. Thudding footsteps and the telltale sign of a large metallic object and chain moving.

"Come on out. Silent One. You might still live to see tomorrow if you do." I ignored the request and stayed low. Crawling on the ground and staying close to the small walls that made up the railings of the room. The speaker was a large man. Minigun clenched in his grasp, ammo and battery pack strapped to his back. He wanted to see what I could do...he could've sprayed the entire area down and torn me to pieces...he didn't want me to come out...he wanted to hunt. I was still covered in blood. My boots left red imprints on the ground. Making a quick decision I took off the footwear as silently as I could and chucked one across the room. There was a window to my right that I could use to escape. Miraculously I did so and slid behind the closest and sturdiest piece of cover I could find. A boulder. A big fuckin rock. Whatever you want to call it I hid behind it and it saved my life as a sniper round deflected off of it. Booming laughter came from the building.

"Run, Silent One! 'Tis your only chance!" I took the advice this time. Throwing smoke and moving to a new piece of cover I analyzed my situation. Bridge to the exfil at twenty meters. No cover offered. Individual wielding revolvers stationed on the bridge. Cliff edge at three meters to my right. Adjacent edge and designated exfil point across the ravine. Blonde-haired man stood there. Unarmed and waiting. Watching. Making my decision I threw another smoke grenade and rushed to the cliff edge. Leaping across I caught the glint of the sniper's scope for a split second before I impacted the adjacent wall. Digging my hands into a large crack I proceeded to climb up. Hauling myself over the edge to the feet of the blonde man.

"That...was a rather unorthodox move." The man stated, I got up and shrugged.

"Best chance at not getting a round in my ass. Leap of faith. Got lucky to get a handhold. What now?" I asked. The man, Liquid Snake I assumed, simply laughed.

"Now we get you back to your new base and run introductions. Without live rounds this time."

- _three hours later, unknown location, Iraq-_

A simple car ride later we arrived to see the rest of the squad. It was a rather eclectic assortment of people. Six members total.

"I believe introductions are in order for the new blood." Liquid stated, leaning against the frame of the jeep, the large man stepped forward.

"Vulcan Raven. Heavy weaponry and demolitions expert of Foxhound."

"Pleasure" the man was of Inuit descent. Tribal tattoos lined his arms and most of his head he stood almost eight feet tall and was a wall of muscle. My own six feet and four inch visage seemed small in comparison. The next to step up was an older man, he wore a brown trench coat, belts of ammunition around his shoulder and waist. Long white hair and a well trimmed mustache gave away the years on the man's frame. Despite the age the man walked with confidence that few could say they held.

"Revolver Ocelot. The world's best gunman and interrogation specialist. I gotta say, kid, you've got some moves." The man said. We stood eye to eye, his shone with amusement. Mine with suspicion and caution. "Little paranoid, ain't ya?" I shrugged,

"I watched my friend die today...what'd you expect?"

"That's war, kid. And you got your revenge. You have his tags, the leader is dead. As is the sniper that did it. Get over it." I leveled a disinterested look at the man. I've heard the same speech before.

"Enough with that, Ocelot. Let's move on." At Liquid's behest the man slid back to his area. The next to introduce himself did so...albeit rudely. Can you consider an invasion on your though process rude? I'm not sure. Either way that's what the man did. A stabbing pain into my brain and the invasive feeling of someone going through your secrets.

" _My my...such a cold demeanor...yet all this fire and brimstone. This will be interesting."_ A low growl escaped my throat as the voice emanated in my head.

" **Get. Out.** "

"I already have. Calm yourself. If I wanted to know your innermost secrets I would've done so already. My psychic powers are unmatched." The man was tall and thin, face obscured by a gas mask, yet a scarred head and pale skin made itself known.

"This is Psycho Mantis. Resident Psychic." Liquid stated, sounding irritated. The next to introduce themselves was a standard army officer. The one who had assigned us our mission…

"Son of a bitch…" I mumbled, getting a chuckle out of the impostor.

"Do not feel bad. I am the master of imitation, Decoy Octopus. I wouldn't expect you to see through this disguise with no prior knowledge...even then I doubt you would have noticed." Finally the last introduction was the only female of the group, a blond haired, blue eyed young Kurdish woman. A PSG-1 slung over her shoulder, Sniper Wolf..

"You killed the sniper that shot Mike, you have my thanks." She smirked.

"I didn't want him to take my quarry." She stated. "Although your file said nothing of being suicidal enough to leap off of a cliff."

"I don't like getting shot. It isn't fun. Besides I didn't make it clean across...slammed into the cliff wall, got lucky there was a handhold." I shrugged, "Either way I guess it's my turn. Jace Orion Rorschach. Anti-infantry, Close-Quarter-Firefight, infiltration, assassination, and survival."

"Close-Quarter Firefight?" Ocelot asked, smirking, "is that code for being shit at hand to hand?"

"No, it means he knows how to kick the crap out of you while putting bullets into you and your friends at the same time. Training against disarming techniques. Fast reaction times, acrobatics. Grappling and strikes. Disarming techniques. And point-blank kill-shot placement." Liquid stated. "The term itself was coined by the Continental mercenary corps. Standard Army CQD just doesn't really encompass what his skill set is. Army Instructors look down on it and refer to it as Gun-Fu."

 _-May 30th. Shadow Moses Island-_

My first few days with the squad were simple. Fill out paperwork, talk my way out of unnecessary injections, run the kill house trying to beat Ocelot's record, things like that. Things between myself and the rest of the group were quiet. The general hazing of the group wasn't obvious, but it was apparent they were not impressed with my repertoire. I ignored them for the most part. The main grievance I had was with Mantis. The psychic had gotten to me when I wasn't prepared. Getting into my head and finding out information that led to my current predicament. I was in an interrogation room. Ocelot, Liquid, and Psycho Mantis stood on the other side of the steel table.

"How did we miss this when we ran his file?" Liquid asked, shoving a finger towards Ocelot.

"Why do you think I know? Well. It explains why he doesn't talk much. Rorschach. Your father. What did he tell you about Diamond Dogs?" The underlying threat of torture didn't go unnoticed, I shrugged. I had no reason to hide my lineage.

"He called you a 'smooth-talking prick' a lot. Was damn lucky he didn't get infected. Worked Combat and R&D. Got wounded too bad and went home with two medals. Wasn't until I started wanting to enlist when he told me about his time there. Just said he worked on an old oil plant when I was a kid, out in the seychelles." The gunman nodded, I sat there, waiting.

"What was his callsign?" Ocelot asked,

"Grinning Alligator." I saw liquid's eyes narrow. That was when it clicked, I started laughing, "oh god I get it now...you're Eli, aren't you commander?" The blond man growled but nodded,

"Call me that name and kiss your chances of seeing the light of day ever again goodbye. Ocelot. What do you think we should do?"

"He's already part of the squad. Even if he's a Diamond Pup. Hell. If anything he's more useful because of it. And if he's as smart as his old man...probably good with nanotech. Mantis. What else did you get from him?"

"Other than an explanation to how he's trained to resist my techniques and his lineage. Nothing of worth. Memories of combat. His first girlfriend. Things like that. The brat's actually somewhat normal. If nothing else he's just good at what he does. Luckily for us, that's performing whatever task he's ordered." The psychic explained, I laughed,

"You honestly think I'm gonna go blabbing about my old man? How young do you think I am? I'm 22 not 12, my pride is in my own abilities. Not the nonexistent reputation of a mercenary group that's long gone. If you honestly think that I'm that incompetent why in the name of the lord christ alMIGHTY did you recruit me in the first place?" my rant over and my uncharacteristically loud voice smothered, the three men stared at me in plain shock and amusement.

"Sergeant Rorschach, you're a good soldier. Good fighter. Quick. Deadly. Calculating. Your time on the kill house is growing closer to my own every day. However. Targets and timers are never a substitute for real action. Hence why you're here. You've never been on a FOXHOUND op before. Now. You're going to be going on one alone. To solidify your spot in this squad. Our interest in your lineage, quite simply it's personal curiosity and suspicion at its truth. We leave tomorrow morning. You fuck up. I shoot you." Ocelot's voice was calm and collected, he leaned over the table until our faces were inches apart. I kept my gaze held with his. "Gear and equipment will be provided en route. You'll work with what we give you first. Your personal gadgets stay here until the next mission. Now. Get out of here and get prepped." The man's interrogation background shone at full strength. Intimidation. Killing intent. The works. I stood up and left the room. On my way back to my own room I was tailed by two of Sniper Wolf's hounds. The woman herself soon joined me in my walk.

"Your father worked with Saladin." She stated. It wasn't a question. I shrugged, continuing to walk.

"My father is in a wheelchair, but yes...he worked for Big Boss. _Militaries San Frontieres,_ Diamond Dogs. Both mercenary groups. Can't buy that kind of loyalty." I stated. "Or the suspicion that comes with it."

"The commander doesn't talk much about his past, nor does Ocelot. When you caught their curiosity as a potential recruit they knew there was risk. They're trying to scare you."

"Nothing scares me anymore. Something they no doubt have picked up on. They doubt me. Compared to the rest of your abilities mine are standard. Heh, fancy throws and headshots. When the resident psycho can throw things with his brain. Raven is stupid strong and uses a weapon that turns his enemies into red mist. Hell, you yourself can snipe a target from miles away. I need to pull out all the stops, otherwise I'll just end up another base guard...I guess that's what I'm worried about, letting down those that put me forward for this damn position. I want to earn my place here, not have it handed to me by some officer." I said, opening the door to my room, there was a cardboard box on my bed, the logo for MSF emblazoned on its side.

"It came in for you this morning. Mantis' report solidified the commander's suspicions. It wasn't tampered with." Ocelot joined our trio, the man leaning on my doorway as I made my way to the box. "Liquid may hold disdain for the man your father worked for, and even for your father himself, but he doesn't interfere with familial matters. Go on." the man sounded like an encouraging uncle at a christmas exchange, a far cry from his earlier demeanor, I opened the package and found four things inside. A note, a large hard case, a plastic packet with a balaclava inside, and finally a rectangular device, a single blue light shining and a thumbstick on one side. Lifting the device I flicked one of the buttons and a map of the base was projected holographically in front of me.

"Map has been updated, date May 30th, 2003, User, Jace Orion Rorschach. Callsign: Son." The gruff, gravelly voice of my father emanated from the device,

"Son of a bitch." Ocelot, stated, chuckling lightly, "programmed his voice into the iDroid…probably the last one in existence. C'mon Wolf. This seems personal for the kid." I nodded, staring at the device in my hand, once the door closed, the gruff voice of my father emanated once again,

"The smooth-talking prick gone? Good. No, this is not a recording, so get your ass in gear and listen up, Orion." I almost dropped the iDroid when my father started speaking again.

"Pa?" I mumbled, raising the device up to eye level.

"You're damn right it's me. So...they got you working for Eli. Evil brat made something of himself. You keep an eye on him. He's not above anything. You cover your ass and you stay alive, understood? Now...right now I'm in Afghanistan. There's someone I need to find. Because there is a war brewing and you're gonna be stuck in the middle of it. I've been keeping an eye on you, son. This old Merc still has his tricks. Orion. Inside of the case are a few weapons, they're yours now. MSF produced and maintained. Along with the weapons you'll find a sneaking suit and battle fatigues. Don't let any of those eggheads touch them. They're yours. No one else's. Understood?" The man's orders were absolute. I could only state my affirmation. "Do your job and keep them happy. However, the second you get the chance you hop the stream and head to these coordinates." The map zoomed out and placed a marker over a privately owned plot of land not far from the coast. "Make sure you're unarmed. Miller won't be expecting you. I'll contact you again later. Stay alive, son. Welcome to MSF."

 _-December 15th. 2003-_

I did it...I earned my spot in the squad. Yet...it felt wrong...I felt like a hired assassin. Infiltration. Elimination. Infiltration. Elimination. Always that single task. Never once did I know why I was there. Why I was killing these people. 'Need to know basis.' Feh. This was my one weekend of leave I had. And I'm on a mission. Fuck my life. I was wrapped in a thick coat and wore a balaclava over my face, marching through the Alaskan snow towards the coordinates on my iDroid. Kazuhira Miller. Commander of MSF. One arm. One good leg. Warrior. The house came into view soon enough. He knew there was someone coming. Cameras and proximity alarms no doubt dotted the route to the man's home. By the time I rose my hand to knock I was staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Balaclava off. Name and intent, lie to me and your brains will freeze in the snow." The man was no nonsense. I pulled off the mask and spoke.

"My name is Jace Rorschach. My father worked for you. Both in the Caribbean and in the Seychelles. Callsign-"

"Grinning Alligator. Come inside. It seems we have a lot to talk about." We moved into the living room of the estate. Taking seats across from one another…"why'd he send you?" I sighed softly, hunching forward slightly before beginning to speak.

"These last few months I've been working for FOXHOUND. Along with that I've been in contact with my father who is now operating out of a wheelchair somewhere in Afghanistan."

"Northern Kabul, no doubt. I don't see why he's trying...he's got to be going on sixty soon. Why go back to that place?"

"There's a war building...FOUXHOUND. The remnants of MSF and Diamond Dogs. The legacy of them. We're gonna be caught in the middle of it. You made a mark on history...it seems like history wants to rub out the mark. According to Pa, at least."

"What are you talking about...Gator was Combat and R&D. Not intel. What proof does he have?"

"Orion, come in! Orion Come in!" My father's voice emanating from the iDroid immediately answered that question, the man was out of breath, mechanical footsteps could be heard running.

"I'm here, Pa. Miller is as well."

"They've found me."

"Who, Gator?" Miller took the device from my hand.

"It's the Skulls, Miller...new ones. They're more efficient...don't need the mist anymore...Orion, don't trust Ocelot. Whatever you do, do not give him any reason to suspect you. He's with Ci- goddamn it they're catching up...COME AND GET ME YOU FREAK!" Gatling gun fire, missile launch. Sniper fire. Extreme Range. High impact.

"HAHAHAHAAAAHHAHAHAHA!"


End file.
